


biggest part of me

by dozencandles



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Carrier!Thunderclash, M/M, Not Abandoned, Transformer Sparklings, Unplanned Pregnancy, author merely suffering from general malaise that comes with living in capitalistic hellscape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozencandles/pseuds/dozencandles
Summary: "Honestly." Ratchet said with a scoff. "It's almost like you youngin's forgot the whole point of a heat cycle."
Relationships: Rodimus/Thunderclash
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	biggest part of me

**Author's Note:**

> Drift sucks at dream interpretation and a routine check-up takes a sharp turn into new territory.
> 
> Also the Spectralism color theory came from robotsstolemyheart on Tumblr.com

"Dream interpretation?" Drift asked, setting down his datapad to give Rodimus an incredulous look. Rodimus only shrugged, giving Drift a hopeful look. "Well I guess, but I'm warning you, I've only ever done my own. The symbolism involved with each mech's dreams is intensely personal and figuring out what everything means-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that." Rodimus said, waving a hand in the air. "It was just really weird and realistic and I kinda wonder if there was anything to it or if I should stop eating Chase Chips(™) right before I recharge."

"You should stop eating junk food." Drift said. "You _know_ that stuff builds up in your tanks!"

"It's a rare treat!" Rodimus protested as Drift rolled his optics. 

"Sit down." Drift said, patting the cushion next to him on the floor. Rodimus, oddly enough, actually sat down instead of flopping, crossing his arms with a sigh.

"Start when you're ready." Drift said. "I'll be taking notes." Rodimus took a deep breath.

"Ok, so I'm in that one abandoned office on the Lost Light, right? There's this little orange guy, not a mini but like, not standard either. Just a real scrawny bot. And he's tinkering with a model ship until he notices me and I get the feeling he's kind of happy to see me? But also a little sad. He doesn't really talk but I know he wants me to know something. He's like, thought-beaming at me I guess. He gets up and I follow him to the Medbay, and he wants to know if I'm ready. And then I woke up."

Rodimus looked at Drift expectantly, who finished scribbling his final notes and tapped his stylus against his lower lip. 

"A few things stand out," He began. "The mech being orange-colored especially. You see, in Spectralism, orange is a very positive color. It symbolizes comfort and being people-oriented as well as focused on details and emotionally intense."

"But I didn't know that." Rodimus interrupted. 

"You'd be surprised what the processor can hold onto." Drift said serenely. "It doesn't matter that you never actually focused on my words when I spoke to you about my beliefs. The idea still remains in your mind, albeit hidden under several layers of other thoughts as well."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Rodimus said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know enough about psychology to dispute it at any rate."

"Just so." Drift said. "Now, the fact that this mystery mech led you to the Medbay is interesting as well. I'd argue that aside from Swerve's, there's no other place on the Lost Light more people focused than there. Perhaps even more, since it's all about helping which brings us back to orange being a color of comfort! Ergo, if you go to the Medbay you will find support for a problem!" 

Drift beamed, oblivious to Rodimus' growing confusion.

"I don't feel comforted in the Medbay." He said. "I'm not the one dating the CMO. I feel like this is very biased, Drift."

"Roddy!" The white mech threw his hands up in exasperation. "I literally don't know what you expected. I tried my best, ok?"

"I just feel like there's something we're both missing." Rodimus said as Drift folded his arms over his chest. "Something important."

"Like I said," he said snidely, "I tried my best. Don't expect any more metaphysical guidance from me."

"Don't be like thaaaaat!" Rodimus said, draping himself over Drift's frame. "Look, I brought those vanadium-steel twisters you like!"

Drift deigned to peer one optic at him as Roddy waved the box of treats at him.

"You could have mentioned that earlier." He sniffed. Roddy continued to shake the box at him with a wide grin until Drift snickered and grabbed them. 

"Comfort in the Medbay," Rodimus scoffed. "Honestly, Drift. No one goes to the Medbay because Ratchet's giving out free hugs."

"Maybe not to the rest of you." Drift answered, breaking off a bite of the twist. "Speaking of relationships, are you ever gonna tell me-"

" _Wow_ Drift." Rodimus interrupted flatly. "Way to seamlessly transition the conversation so you can get your gossip fix."

"It's not gossip." Drift clarified, jabbing a half-eaten twist at him, the other half poking out of his mouth. "It's an Amica asking a genuine question."

"Alright," Rodimus relented. He steepled his hands in front of his face, fixing Drift with his best serious stare.

"Yes." He said. "The rumours are true. I helped _you-know-who_ with his _you-know-what."_

"No, I'm afraid I don't know." Drift said with a wicked smirk. "You have to tell me using your big mech words."

"If you can't guess then tough luck." Rodimus grumped. "We agreed to keep it private because he was embarrassed enough about the whole thing."

"Understandable." Drift said, leaning back to a more easy-going position. "So? Are you two gonna…" 

"Honestly, I don't know. Just because we had a few fantastic cycles in a berth doesn't mean we'd be a good match for each other, y'know?"

"Makes sense." Though Drift's tone was doubtful. "I think you should go for it, personally."

"Why?"

"Well, why not?"

"Because if it doesn't work out, I…" Rodimus blew a heavy sigh that sent several wrappers skittering across the table. "I just think it's better off as a one and done deal."

"Liar." Drift said easily, gathering the wrapper up and ignoring the hurt expression on Rodimus' face. "You can't handle the thought of being an ex of The Greatest Autobot Ever." He pointed another twist at Rodimus like he was sentencing him. "I'm right and you know it."

Several choice phrases appeared in his processor's queue ranging from light hearted teasing to downright defensive. Drift regarded him with soft, non-judgmental optics, like he knew exactly what Rodimus was thinking. The silence between them was as heavy as their history on the Lost Light.

Finally Drift broke it by popping the metal twist into his mouth and crunching obnoxiously. Rodimus rolled his neck joints and laughed.

"I hate that I can hear the capitalization." He complained. "But...yeah."

"But, yeah?" Drift asked.

"But yeah." Rodimus repeated. "Primus, what do I have to say? Drift, you were right, you were always right, you're right about everything. I give you full control of the Universe because clearly you are right about _literally everything."_

"Once more for posterity." Drift said tilting his head back with a grin. " And then again in front of everyone else."

Rodimus groaned loudly but obeyed.

"Drift, you were right, you were always right, you're right about everything. I should give you full control of the Universe becau- what is that. What are you doing."

"A camera stick, and I'm filming you."

"Give me that!" He cried, flinging an arm out to try and snatch it but Drift rolled easily to dodge him, grabbing the box of treats along the way. 

"I'm taking the snacks too, your snack privileges are revoked- _I said give them here you little glitch!_ Don't you run away from me! Get back here! Drift!"

  
  


***

_(Location: Medbay.)_

"Alright," Ratchet said, glancing down at his notes. "Just a routine check-up?". He does a quick once-over of his patient for visual confirmation that nothing is outwardly wrong. Thunderclash looked about as comfortable as anyone could get lying on a cold metal slab. No signs of distress but Ratchet had been friends with him long enough to know the mech could hide anything to put others at ease.

Idiot.

"Yes." Thunderclash said, all too aware of the look-over. "I just want to make sure I didn't strain anything too much during my ah...confinement."

"Your heat-cycle." Ratchet said bluntly, if only to see the big lug still had the grace to look embarrassed. Greatest Autobot Ever and he still acted the prude around a frame's natural tendencies.

Well, he supposed anyone would be mortified if their field went and broadcasted that right in the middle of bridge duty. 

"Port." He said, and Thunderclash offered up his wrist, a small panel sliding away for Ratchet to plug a cord into and run a quick systems diagnosis. He frowned at the readings popping up on his HUD; some of it was standard for Thunderclash due to his injuries like the exhaustion errors that never quite cleared, or the chronic ache in his spark. But the overheating? His cooling protocols should have taken care of that automatically. Ratchet ran a quick scan, but the program came up clean. No vents were physically blocked either. As Ratchet puzzled over that, an alert for inefficient fuel popped up.

"Have you been taking your energon supplements?" He asked as he examined the error. Fuel tanks at 89%, and although he'd need a tank sample to really confirm things Thunderclash had no reason to lie about his health. 

Strangest of all, the scan was telling him that this was _normal_ when he knew damn well for a fact it was _not._

He frowned. Thunderclash shifted, concern writ on his face.

"Shush." Ratchet said, though the mech hadn't said anything. He doubled back to the overheating to see if he could trace it's source, grabbing a passing line of code and following its trail through Thunderclash's system to the source.

His spark.

Thepieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Ratchet dismissed everything as swiftly as he could and unplugged the cord, winding it back in so fast it whipped and pinged against his plating as it went. 

"I'm going to need you to open your chestplates for me." He said calmly. "I have a theory I need to check."

"Of course." Thunderclash responded, used to medics trying to hide their alarm (Bless her, but Lotty was _expressive)_ He sat up on the slab and activated the hinges there. The doors parted at the seams and swung slowly open, the glow of his spark illuminating Ratchet's face. He leaned in close, optics whirring as they adjusted to new settings.

_There!_

He caught sight of the spot as the spark rotated in its casing; a white-hot patch on the dim surface, no bigger than the tip of his smallest finger but no less important. There wasn't any doubt in his mind with that discovery. Wasn't any time either, not with the way the whole spark was flaring.

"I'm sending you a live feed." Ratchet said, leaning in close, the awe in his voice so obvious he nearly cringed. Nearly.

"Is that-" Thunderclash asked, then cut himself off with a gasp of pain. His spark, humming with charge, crackled again and again, arcs of energy flying off but not dissolving, no it was….they were coalescing into a separate, smaller mass but it _hurt_ with every flare and jump, like someone was putting out embers on his exposed wires.

"Ratchet!" He hissed, his hand clenching hard on the edge of the slab as his spark gave one final discharge and the newspark was wholly separated from his own.

They were both silent, absorbed in watching the little pinprick of light orbit in a wobbly line as it found a rhythm around it's progenitor, uneven and off balance but _there._ Against all odds, it was there.

"I apologize for not letting you know ahead of time." Ratchet said slowly. "But it's been a long time since I've even heard of a newspark, much less seen one split with my own eyes."

"No... you've no need to apologize." Thunderclash murmured, sounding far-away. "It was an honor to witness it."

"Few do." With that, Ratchet straightened up and signalled he was going to cut the feed. Thunderclash nodded, the disconnect sending a hollow hurt through him though logically he knew the... _his_ newspark was still there, still circling his spark. His chestplates closed automatically and no sooner had they sealed his hands flew up to press against them feeling the thrum under his palm.

A _newspark._

Oh dear.

"Look, Thunderclash." The sound of his name snapped him out of his reverie, optics breaking away from a one-sided staring contest at the floor. "I'm not going to pressure you either way but you have a few options here. The newspark is as fresh as it gets, triggering the re-absorbtion process will take at most, a few kliks."

"And if I chose to carry?" He asked tentatively, fingers curling imperceptibly on his plating.

"You know I'm not in the habit of cushioning things." Ratchet said, rubbing his nasal ridge. "But if you decide to keep the newspark, it's going to be hard on your frame in every way possible. In fact, I can't in _good medical conscious_ recommend a full carrying if that's the route you choose. There would be too much of a strain on you; the bitlet will siphon from your spark and your gestational tank is already starting to hoard materials to build up a protoform. Left too long? It would be an ugly choice between you and the bitlet. Worst case scenario, we'd lose you both." 

He paused to take in his friend's hunched frame and coughed a few times.

"I'm not trying to scare you…" He tried again, in a softer tone. "I'm a doctor who wants patient safety and your own autonomy to be a top priority, no matter what."

"I know." Thunderclash replied, looking up to give his friend a faint smile. "Your concern for people is something I've always admired about you, no matter how hard you try to hide it."

"I should report you for slander." Ratchet harrumphed, turning his back on Thunderclash, ostensibly to make a few notes in his chart, but mostly to hide the smile on his face. He didn't smile in the Medbay as personal rule; kept his reputation intact.

"Not if I report myself first." 

"Slagger." When Ratchet faced him, he was all business once more, stylus and datapad at the ready.

"I can give you some time to think about your options." He said, tapping the end of the pen against it. "But not much. If you decide to carry, we'll need you back in here right away to figure out how to proceed. And I'd advise bringing the sire in as well, not only to inform them but to run checks on their coding in order to see if the newspark may inherit difficulties from either of you."

At the mention of the sire, Thunderclash froze momentarily then relaxed. Ratchet didn't react to it, only waited patiently for his decision. Thunderclash tapped his fingers against the surface of the berth, mouth a thin line of concentration. After a stretch of silence, he nodded to himself and looked up at Ratchet.

"I'd like some time to inform the sire and come to a decision. It does not sit right with me to keep him unaware of this."

Ratchet hummed in acknowledgement and closed Thunderclash's file. "I'm scheduling you for an appointment three cycles from now. That should give you enough time to talk things out, but you're cleared to come in earlier if you'd like. Just be aware I might not be available, depending on...well, you know how things can get." 

"Quite." Thunderclash said, carefully sliding off the berth. "Thank you for everything my friend."

"It's my job."

"It does not mean you don't deserve thanks." Thunderclash said, putting a hand on his shoulder with a warm smile. "I'm saying this as a friend, not a patient."

Ratchet snorted, shrugging his shoulders, but not harshly enough to dislodge the hand.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here you big lug."

As soon as the door closed, Ratchet sat down in the chair and pressed the sides of his helm. He knew that look on Thunderclash's face and even more, he'd known the mech since his Academy days. 

With a sigh, he brought up Thunderclash's patient file and began writing out a treatment plan.


End file.
